My usual warnings apply: report as long as the race, graphic Canadian weather and bodily function content, yada yada...

Last week was divine, with temperatures above freezing. Tuesday and Thursday's runs were not difficult, and on bare ground, with few ice patches. Friday I watched the cold front roll in from my North-facing office window; within 15 minutes I could barely see to the end of our small parking lot. By the start time of my race, Saturday at noon, we had two inches of snow just barely covering what ice was left, there was a nasty wind blowing more snow sideways, and it was less than 17°C.

This wasn't just any old race today. Sure, I've done these XCs for a few years now, but I'd only done this one twice, and both times the temps were just around -25°C. I was crazy then, and I sure was this time! I cheerfully signed up for the 8 k option (there's a 4k too) at the race registration car, reminding myself that this year was WARMER than the last two years, and telling myself I would really enjoy myself once I got going.

Dawn Henry warming up

Sylvie and Dawn staying warm

I met up with several racers and we all shivered excitedly and made various trips back to our vehicles to alter our ensembles. Dianne had brought her spikes for me to wear, so I lent my Yaktraks to Nancy. Just before we headed out to the start line I dumped my parka for my lined windbreaker. It turned out the start line was a whole kilometer from the parking area this year! I made a mental note as I scrambled over nasty ice-covered hills to add 2 more km to my log book.

From Left: Sylvie, Yolanda, Lindsay, Nadine, Nancy

Kathy and Rob Taerum

The race began most of the way up a hill, and for the first 15 minutes I teetered on wind-blown ridge of snow and bumpy ice. The wind literally took my breath away. I had the darndest time staying upright, not only because of the wind and ice, but I had handicapped myself somewhat; I was carrying a cardboard sign made from a juice can flat, on which I'd written GO DAWN GO! and 3 cloth Penguin banners made from an old flannel bed sheet (from previous events). The sign was NOT aerodynamically helpful. I've never taken sailing lessons and don't know anything about tacking into the wind. I had tied long, pink curly ribbon to the sign, and it wrapped itself around me and rustled in my fleece-covered ears.

I don't normally carry signs when I race, but it was Dawn's birthday. Dawn and I carpool to these races and a lot of group runs, and this was also our first race together in Calgary one year ago when she moved here. We had some celebrating of our training to do. I handed off the sign to a brave, strategically-placed volunteer, and gratefully headed down into the coulee. With great whoops of courage I bounded down hills, displacing more careful downhillers in front of me, only to have them pass me again as I stopped at each of the next three volunteers and asked them to hold up banners and to wish Dawn happy birthday as she came around. As I left each one, I reminded them "She'll be wearing PINK".

Once my arms were free I set about trying to make up for lost time. I checked my watch, and was momentarily disappointed to find that my heavily mittened finger hadn't depressed the start button adequately. In the bottom of the valley there was a twisty path beside a winding frozen creek, tall trees, and no wind. I shot over little knolls and didn't even think about the second loop. On purpose. As I was coming out of the valley two front-runners lapped me and one wiped out just before he got to the finish. It was an uphill bastard of a climb, with thick ice under the snow. It was a difficult climb even with spikes; had I worn regular shoes I might have crawled at this point.

Volunteers are the greatest

As I crested the top of the ridge and the wind whipped the snow into me I heard the sound of a flag flapping behind me - it was my windbreaker resisting the gale. I thought for the second time in that race "Have I lost my MIND!" I felt like I had been afflicted with cerebral palsy, or a stroke. The right side of my face felt frozen, and I took itty bitty steps on the bumpy ice. My arms barely moved, my chin tucked down, and I was drooling and tearing from the right side of my face as I pressed on. I affected face twitch/grimace/rapid blink spasms to keep my right eye from freezing shut.

Another volunteer braving the ridge

I summoned up a mental image I'd been saving for just such an occasion: my grandmother. I have an 87 year old grandmother who broke her hip in November. She is having trouble remembering things, is severely depressed, won't eat, and has lost her will to live. She is rarely not in pain, and short jaunts from her hospital bed exhaust her. I love her dearly, and so appreciate my blessings in comparison to her present state. There is so much that I can still do that she can't. As I recalled the wrinkled, white-haired image of my incredible shrinking grandma I remembered to FEEL ALIVE. I chose to be invigorated by the needles of snow pelting my face, and stopped trying to run in mincing steps. I broke into a strong, full-stride walk, with arms a-swinging and set my jaw into a rigid, determined grimace.

I was amazed at how my new perspective filled me with such energy! I felt ALIVE! If I were dead I would not feel even close to this crappy. And maybe I'd be a whole lot warmer ;) I smiled at my joke on myself, and would have kept smiling, but my teeth got too cold.

I bounced back into the coulee again, deeply appreciated every tree, rock and volunteer, and emerged from the bottom of the valley feeling happy I was almost done, but dreading that last climb to the finish. I was incredibly heartened to see several Penguins who'd finished ahead of me cheering me on as I painstakingly picked my way between rocks and ice to join them at the clock.

I have no idea what my time was, and I'm not sure I care. This race was about me accomplishing yet one more step in my goal of finishing ALL the 8k XC in the 10 race series this year. It was about me teaching myself mind games. It was about learning to run in Dianne's spikes on ice (the spikes are only in the toes, don't rely on any heel grip). It was about celebrating Dawn's birthday, the 1 year anniversary of our first race together, and my 4 year runnerversary. It was about setting precedents, too. Now that I have raced in those nasty conditions, I have no excuse to stay on the couch in any nicer weather.

Onward, to 3 more races in the series! I'm ready; bring it on! Just not today, I have some knots to work out of my calves...